This past weekend, I was led to treat myself to a Raindrop Therapy session - a massage session chock full of essential oils. The person to whom I was led also threw in some other oils that some fandangle machine had "discerned" that I needed. The top three were as follows:
Sage: Sage helps to stimulate the mind and promote mental clarity, warding off
fatigue and distraction. Sage is an antimicrobial and so can be used to help cleanse the air or surfaces within the home.
ICP: helps to eliminate build-up in your intestines. By combining fiber from
psyllium, oat bran, and flax, with fennel seeds -- this blend helps
decrease waste buildup from the sides of the colon, helping to improve
nutrient absorption and improve overall health. I could say "yes" to all of the above. I'm not sure, though, that they would "directly" address the sadness. Yes, I'm still crying.
Maya left for school yesterday. We spent a couple of hours packing things into the car (very tricky, as the hatchback
Maya is playing with the idea of her senior capstone project being a one-woman presentation (spoken word, performance - unsure of the actual form at this time) on "My Mother's Mother." I found myself, one evening last week, reliving and sharing some of the stories from my mother's eventual last days of her life - my time with her when I knew she was dying sooner than I would like, but I was not able to say the words out loud.
And as I sit here, typing and crying, I think, "Who could I call upon to sit with me? Who could I call upon to witness this grief?" And in the same breath, I'm not so sure I want to share this space with anyone...it's somehow very private...it can't be just anyone...
And as I continue to cry, I "HALT" myself: Just had supper - big bowl of homemade chicken soup. Not angry that I am aware of. Not lonely, even though I am along. I may be Tired, given that I am still recovering from being ill. When I go inside, though, what I feel is grief and sadness. And just when I think that the tears may be slowing down, I think "I miss my mom," and I'm gushing again. And maybe, this is finally it. More missing my mom is needed. It's time. As my own daughter grows, as our relationship grows, I become more acutely aware of what I missed.
I went back and italicized that last sentence. I think it is important. This grief - it is something I am "growing into." It wasn't there before. I knew that I would not have times with my mom: she wasn't there when I married, nor was she there for the birth of my two children. I missed her then -and anticipated that I would miss her.
It is different now. My daughter and I were thrown onto a "fast track" of maturing when I received a lymphoma diagnosis - we moved toward and then passed a stage my mom and I barely hit before she died. And now, my daughter and I dance into and out of that "sweet stage" where mothers and daughters come to respect each other, see each other as people, and want the best for each other - no matter how much we drive each other crazy. That's what I didn't get to have with my mom. And now that I have tasted it with my daughter, I want it with my own mother. What I said earlier is true:
As my own daughter grows,
as our relationship grows,
I become more acutely aware of what I missed.
And now, it's been 40 minutes that the tears have been coming and going and that Mr. Church has finished.
So that massage, those essential oils, - and oh, yes - the yin yoga with acupuncture directly afterwards - has opened me up and I am crying like I have not cried in years. I am feeling sad like I have not felt in years. I am grieving like I have not grieved in years.
I guess all I can say is this: It's probably about gott-damned time.
